Precious child
by Thetimeinbetween
Summary: When a war ends,there's happiness and celebrating for it's over,but no easy solation for those who lost somebody,above all if it was their kids.
1. Blood on the battle floor

So I don't own HP,cause if I did...you know...Anyway this is my take on something which we could never forget:the pain of parents who lost their kids to that very last battle.

If you still look through the walls,between the tapestries and the school in general you might spot the things which weren't fixed. Some unnoticed burns pheraps,some empty spaces,holes here and there,something that should look fine,and know it.…You could hear the screams of those who fell,the blasts,the spells left and right and the smell of death. There's blood on the walls and the floor,even if it was wiped away you would know where to look if you were there,if you witnessed it,if that night was yours too. You'd hear the loud screams of mothers,mothers and fathers who lost their kids,who had just started to live,who they feel were far braver than them. Take a look at Dumbledore's grave and you'll see a statue not so far,where there are names ,and ages…which have stayed the same since they were put there. Dead can't talk,but have lots of words left unsaid,and dreams they never fullfilled or at last not on their own. You'll know if you were there on that fateful night.


	2. Take a picture of the moment

In the muggle world when you're underage,unless you don't drive out of the way of life things are quite easy. And if things can be easy and you build up a pretty life for yourself you're sure there's gonna be lots of happy photos of that to look through over and over again,when you'll be older,and have a family yourself. Except for what happens when things get twisted and you find out that indeed your life is quite curious too and you're sending your kid off to a sort of boarding school,where he can be,however,what he truly is. It's hard at first,you think you can remember how you tried to send tears away when you're waving at him,holding his brand new camera,and laugh at his photos with him when he comes back home that christmas going on and on about how amazing this brand new world is. He's talkative and has found for himself something he likes. Except for the fact that your life isn't so perfect anymore,that you're left empty-handed when life had just began,for him,for you've outlived him and think you can never look through those snaps of happiness again,because you're helpless at something only he knew. A war he faced on his own,through a tangle of lies he told you to keep you safe from harm. Take a snap of it,Mary,because you're never getting your child back. Your child who was underage,and stayed behind to help,a child who wasn't so far from being of age,who started taking less and less photos home year by year just to not make you hurt. Take a snap of your child lying on a stretcher,pale and cold because this is the only thing you've left. You feel you're somehow granted the chance to see Colin being nothing more than asleep,you saw some other kids,some of his friends,and you had to look away...because you couldn't bear the sight,the photo of something which is burnt in your mind forever. No snaps of happiness,ever again. It's not fair,not anymore. Now he'll be gone forever,it won't be 10 months,or a week at a friend's house,it will be forever and you realize that photos can capture so much. A moment,a smile,a tear,even the soul of people,but they can't give you back your child,if only be the reminder of what is not there anymore. But you can't fall,you can't,not because you aren't screaming inside,but because for how short his life might have been,he was there. Like a picture lasting forever. You kneel beside him,and you can still see the child he used to be,the brilliant mind he had. You spot something falling off his clothes. It's a photo,and there's the four of you all together. You're there,in his mind,even when he was alone,you're his strenght in the darkness and into that darkness you know he's one of those who snapped the picture of freedom,even if you can't be part of the picture of his life anymore.


	3. One last brush of life

When Lavender was little she would be running around the house grabbing all your things,saying that they would help her be more beautiful like you. You'd run after her and catch the brush in her right hand,sitting her on your knees,and the days would fly by repeating the rite of brushing her long hair,growing year by year. And you'd have so much fun,that your husband ended up joining you. She was your only child,you had no reason to not spoil your little girl. That's why you felt that pang in your heart last christmas,when you found her crying in her room about how vein she had been,and how her magazines wouldn't have helped them win the war. You spotted bruises here and there,and realized there was nothing you could do,but hold her tightly to your chest,remembering sadly the times where there was no war. You sent her back thinking that nonetheless anything she would've been fine,if she could've stayed out of trouble,while you could stay put. She promised,with a tight smile that she would've been fine,and since she had never been a liar you believed her. She was no child anymore,she was to take her choices by herself. She chose last night too,and chose courage. There was more to your Lavender,meeting the eyes of people. She was your beautiful doll,not just on the outside,not just because nature had granted her the chance to be healthy,good looking,or what else,but because she had the most beautiful things inside of herself. If she believed into something,she would put her heart into it,if she thought something was worth fighting for,she would fight,like she had. If she wanted to say something she would say it out loud,she wasn't just a pretty doll. You were given a bed in the hospital wing,and now you're here,with your brush out ready to repeat your rite. It was rite when she was little,when she would leave for school every year,and for every change in general. It'll be a rite again,now that you've been granted one last chance,to accompany her through something. Through a passage that matters. But you find yourself wishing she could just open her eyes,and grab the brush from your hand,like when she was a kid,do her hair and then yours,and talk excitedly to you about things which mostly shouldn't matter to any of the two,but won't let you think about what life has become. The scars don't frighten you,in your eyes she keeps being beautiful,the beautiful person who could read deep inside of you. Scars are a reminder of the fighter she was,as she was more than her cuts,although you wish you could wipe away the blood that's still in her hair,which won't grow anymore as a testament to her growing up. She will never have all she had wished for. Life doesn't matter to you anymore,if it weren't for the soft weight on your back you'd already be gone,because what's life like if you can't have her by your side?He'll be grabbing the brush you so much love in a minute,telling you you're all supposed to get ready. What for?You're not gonna be doing your hair,or have the chance to choose a particular dress as if you're taking part in a party where your daughter is in it. There's no more light to find in your world.

You come home to an empty house,holding a lock of hair in your hand,the way you did on the day she was born and set it in the album you filled out on her first years of life and your brush it every year,losing it everyday more,and whenever you can't hold it he comes by your side and repeats the rite and sometimes if you dare closing your eyes,you can imagine she is the one brushing your hair,with her soft hands,and her contagious laughter,and her bright shining locks,bright as the person she was.


	4. Smile,life is beautiful

If you can take a look back on your life as it has been up till now you could say it was fine even in the middle of a war you had managed to find the light,the one sparkling back in your children's eyes. But you reckon things haven't been normal since it happened,you need to be the man you're and keep everybody afloat,when you yourself can barely stand George's silence,Percy's guilt and Harry's,who has been a son to you since the day you met him,the quiet of usually chatty Fleur,or the calm fumbling around the kitchen to cook a meal barely anybody's gonna eat,and the anger of the boys,and Ginny's mood swings when none of them should be going through this. Smile. How's it you seem to be the only one to remember?You need to celebrate Fred's life,not death. He's not a body in a coffin,he's the ghostly smile he left behind himself and you refuse to forget that smile,because that's what has you waking up everyday and helping Molly,and standing the absence of a piece of your heart. Your son is a hero,not because he died in a war,but because he left people one reason more to smile,to have fun,to go through life in a peaceful way. You saw him that night,before the battle broke out,he smiled at you and went with one of his jokes,then left and next time you saw him,he was no more. Except for the fact that he's,and you feel sorry that only the people who met him will remember that he's not gone,that people who bring such happiness into your life can't die. It's something that tears you apart,to know there's something which feels so close and yet is far out of your reach. To know he left without any pain,is a legacy to how much pain didn't seem to change his sunny temper,but you know too he was a responsible boy,always looking out for his family,but treating everybody equally. To him the age of mind and heart mattered more than body's. A reason for which he had always been self confident,but encouraged the others and trusted in his siblings judgement and will. You realize only now that he might have taught you more than you did. But then again nobody teaches us to be parents,we have to learn day by day,making mistakes,following several paths,and if he grew up to be the wonderful man he was then it means that you made a good job,and you feel proud,because if you managed to teach him from how to behave down to the simplest thing you could think about,it's because he taught you how to live,to think about pain and keep your mind intact,to remember that smile forever. Soon you're confident you'll find a way to help your other six kids,your Molly,the woman you love the most in this world. It gives you a smile when the shouting matches stop all together,when conversations break out at supper again,when the shop Fred had wished for the most in the world,is reopened,and kids fill it again,with their joyful laughters. When nobody feels guilty to be alive anymore,because they all know Fred had always wished for otherwise. You know there can still be smile beyond the ghost of a smile,and life beyond life itself.


	5. Through and beyond

Beyond it all,beyond that war,something had been left. Eventually Andromeda,who had always been good at such feelings,had known. She had known the moment Dora had left,slipped out of her fingers,to be grasped by the unknown,hopefully by the fingers of her lovely husband. She had been feeling things for hours,and when her daughter's life had been broken,she had broken too and little Teddy into crying,and she had had all the clue she needed. War had wiped out her family,good and bad,past and present,and brought umbearable pain to those who were still there. Then again,when had life been normal for her?And yet Andromeda had fully known what she wanted to be and who with. She had seen the Weasleys a few days ago,how war had paid them one last blow by taking young Fred away,but she had gripped onto Arthur's hope to get better,and how he had told her that indeed something had been left. She had her grandson. In his attitude of baby she had seen so much of her daughter,and Remus too,that she had been left weeping in her room for hours,in the awful quiet Dora and her husband had filled for years. Indeed her daughter had moved away once ready,but she had been there as much as she could to be with them,war had brought them even closer than they already were. Arthur was right she had an hope,it was lying right besides her,chewing on his thumb,without a care in the world and Andromeda wished she could've felt that carefree all over again. If she had been she could've fooled herself into believing that her daughter would've been back soon,tripping onto something on her way,pheraps her own feet,in a true show of Tonks'clumsiness. Nonetheless she knew she couldn't dwell on what could've never been again,she had to be with the life she had left. Because even if unknowingly she had left her a reason to go on,to fill the house with laughters again,with the memory of her getting married to the man she loved. Even if they were gone,now.

Teddy was up,sitting on her bed,smiling at her and changing his eyes,even if it had to be a reflex since he was too little to control it. His hair looked the bubble gum colour Dora had loved to wear,and his eyes were glowing from a colour to the other,even the most bizarre,giving her an hard time to stay serious. She could've never laughed...she could efford to go on for him,but she couldn't. And yet everytime he did something funny she would laugh her heart out,and yet bit by bit once more her mouth spread in a big smile towards her grandson,and Andromeda laughed lifting him up and hugging him close to her chest.

She laughed and Harry and Ginny were coming to have some fun all together tomorrow,she laughed and didn't feel guilty,for life had given her another chance.

Happy birthday Dora.

 **Ok,so this is the last shot. This one is set an year after the battle of Hogwarts,** **and Tonks'birthday. Let's always celebrate the life of this wonderful magical world without forgetting what was done to fight Voldemort.**


End file.
